Confession
by songsmith
Summary: Following the events of "Repression," Janeway and Chakotay are hardly speaking. When at last the tension reaches the breaking point, blunt truths will be revealed... (Complete.)


Summary:   
Janeway and Chakotay's thoughts as they try to resolve their feelings during and after "Repression." Rated PG-13 for mild language and adult themes.  
  
Author's Notes:  
I want critiques! No flames, though.  
Thanks are owed to "Londo" and "Vir" who read through this piece repeatedly, and bore with me when I was down to writing one line a day.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned Voyager, I wouldn't be a broke college student.  
  


Confession

I couldn't stop replaying the scene in my mind. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Her voice was crisp, suspicion tightening it into her 'command tone.' Our eyes met; I knew she knew what I was doing. She only asked because she didn't want to believe. Hell, _I_ didn't want to believe. 

"I think it's obvious," my voice replied, calm and level, perhaps even a touch condescending. _Kathryn, forgive me!_ my subconscious screamed, flailing at Teero's mental bonds. The voice that was mine-not-mine continued steadily, "I'm taking control of your ship. Within the hour, all Starfleet personnel will be locked in their quarters. Step back in the brig, Kathryn." 

She shook her head sadly. "What's Teero done to you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"He's simply helped us remember you we are. We're Maquis." Her eyes were growing colder, but I pressed on viciously. "We've always been Maquis." 

I could see the pain flash in her eyes briefly, but the mask of command slammed home viciously. She stepped slightly closer to me. "The rebellion ended three years ago. You know that." 

Spirits, yes, I knew that. In my mind's eye I called up gruesome pictures of my comrades lying bleeding and dead on scores of battlefields, in the bases I had known, on the ships I had seen. I wanted to weep. Instead, I countered coldly, "In the Alpha Quadrant, maybe. Not on this ship." I seized her arm, gentling my touch at the last moment, to escort her into the brig. She did not resist, though she walked stiffly, and after a moment I released her. She strode beside me down the hall, the cold silence between us the only indication that this was not a normal stroll through _Voyager_ by her command staff. 

She didn't run. True, I had a phaser and she was unarmed, but I knew Kathryn was a capable fighter, and even as my body quietly tensed, waiting for her ambush, my mind screamed at her to strike, to run, to do anything but stalk the hall at my side. Didn't she know what could happen? I had been ruthless enough as a Maquis -- not against her, no; never against her -- but I had been, and she must know that; Tuvok is nothing if not thorough. How could she stay so close to me, knowing that Teero controlled my mind. Hadn't she been listening when I told her that he was a fanatic? 

We reached the brig, and she stepped calmly into the cell. What was she _doing?!_ the part of my mind still free screamed. Kathryn Janeway, my Kathryn Janeway, fighter of Kazon, Hirogen, Borg, Species 8472, was walking quietly into the brig of her own starship because a small group of ex-Maquis had decided to stage a mutiny? 

I watched her turn to Tuvok, saw the long look that passed between them -- father, daughter; captain, officer; mentor, pupil; confidant, friend -- and then he turned to me. But my gaze remained on her, and when he called me 'Captain,' I saw her face. To anyone else it would be invisible, but I had spent the past seven years in her company, my eyes on her every move. I saw the hurt and betrayal that shone in her eyes then, and the anger that turned them a steely-grey. _If Tuvok is really on our side, I'll kill him,_ I swore. Unfortunately, all that reached my conscious mind were my doubts about his loyalty. 

***

I saw him in the mess hall, and almost turned to return to my quarters. But resolutely I squared my shoulders and strode into the room. The crew's confidence -- and, if I was to be honest, my own -- had been shaken enough by his mutiny without the captain turning tail at the first glimpse of her first officer. So I forced myself to return Neelix's banter, grateful that Chakotay decided to keep on his side of the mess hall. 

I never tasted the food. With Neelix's cooking, that isn't always a hardship, but today my attention kept wandering across the room, to where he ate mechanically, much as I did, and my mind insisted on replaying every meal we'd shared, easy conversation about ship's business and ship's gossip passing between us. I hadn't realized how much those meals kept me centered, even made me human. I know I rely too heavily on command protocol sometimes; I'm not as blind as the crew seems to think. It's just easier, for a captain. Easier if each injury to a crewman isn't also to a friend; easier if each death doesn't sap a part of your soul. _Sap a part of your soul, Kathryn?_ I thought wryly. That's his influence on me; the more spiritual side of life. Life, in general. Chakotay has always been able to coax me out of my shell and force me to meet the world as a human, rather than a captain. Although at times, he makes me want to slam the gates harder than ever. Like the time he confronted me about my 'deal with the devil.' Like now. 

I sighed into my mug of 'coffee,' not wanted to return to the subject of his recently mutiny. "His mutiny," I kept calling it. Oh, logically, I knew that Teero had planted the seeds of it long ago, long before the Caretaker, the Ocampa, and this damn Delta Quadrant trek we were stuck on, but emotionally it stung, dammit! I trusted the man. Even after all of the crazy stunts he's pulled over the years, I trusted him. This incident was shredding that trust. 

He stood, carrying his tray to the recycler. Then he turned to leave, passing so close to my table that I could almost feel the rush of air caused by his passage. His gaze turned to mine; his lips parted as if to speak, but I turned my eyes down to the depths of my mug, and whatever he had been about to say died aborning. "Captain," he said neutrally, nodding as he moved on. I nodded in return, murmuring a "Commander," for form's sake. 

And that was the extent of our interaction these days.   


***

  


Leaving the mess hall, I cursed myself for seven times a fool. I knew she didn't want to talk to me; she'd only been avoiding me for the last three days. I had actually come to look forward to the daily debriefings, as they were the only times when I could have a conversation longer than two minutes with her. And I knew what was bothering her the most. Not my mutiny, no, that she could excuse, blame on Teero. No, it was my little test of Tuvok's loyalty that had made her turn away. 

In my sleep I dreamed the scene again and again. Janeway's face, the phaser almost trembling in Tuvok's hand, the flare of sparks, the smiles on the faces of my Maquis. And I wondered if I should talk to them about the incident, or if that would only churn up their own feelings of anger -- and I wondered if there were still buried feelings in my crew, or her crew, after so long. 

I caught myself on the labels, and shivered. "My crew" -- Maquis. "Her crew" -- Starfleet. We hadn't separated into camps for so long… sometimes I thought B'Elanna and Harry's teasing nicknames for one another were the last remnants of our divided identities. I could remember the tone of Kathryn's voice when I'd jumped in to protect the Maquis -- "Your crew," I'd said, and she'd replied, "My crew?" with a softness I knew for reproach. "Our crew," I'd answered, and wished it hadn't come out sounding so damn reluctant. Maybe if I'd hastened to cement the camps, she wouldn't doubt me so much now. 

I knew I was fooling myself there. My nightmares told me that much…   


"Yosa," I snapped out. "My ready room, now." He followed me, and I saw grins stretch across the faces of my crew. _My_ ready room, I'd called it. Starfleet -- and Janeway -- was gone now. 

When the door hissed shut behind us, I turned to him, my face twisted in a slight smirk. "I want to be sure Tuvok's with us," I told him, and he nodded. 

"Yeah, Captain, I'd rather not get betrayed by that pointy-eared Fleeter again," he replied. "Whadda want me to do?" 

I smiled, and I knew it was not a pleasant expression. "Go get Janeway. Let's see where his loyalties lie." And as Yosa left the room, I pulled out the phaser and hefted it in my hand. Then, on a whim that I swear -- I pray -- was the true me exerting some sort of influence, I pulled out a toolkit and began modifying the weapon. _Can't give him an advantage, just in case…_ I thought, as I made the adjustments that would render it ineffective. 

Soon enough all was ready, and I summoned Tuvok. His face was as Vulcan as they got, but I knew if he was human, he'd be showing confusion. I told him I couldn't forget his betrayal seven years ago. 

"It won't happen again," he promised. Strange, but even my inner voice believed him. Tuvok would not -- for all our differences over the years -- betray me. But he was Vulcan, and Vulcans can make some strange stretches in the name of logic. And so I told him I needed to test him. 

I tapped the console and Yosa escorted her into the room. Her face was set, but her thoughts showed all the same: first puzzlement, then wariness, then anger. I handed the phaser to Tuvok. "Consider this a test of your loyalty. It's set to kill," I said, the words dropping from my lips like stones. 

"You said you wouldn't hurt anyone," Janeway said, and her voice was tight with… I couldn't quite identify it. Anger? Pain? Fear? Spirits… _hate?_

I didn't -- couldn't -- answer her. Only wait for Tuvok. The moments dragged out endlessly. I felt like time was caught in slow motion, trapped inside my skull, watching myself force Tuvok to threaten her life… the captain I had sworn to support, to protect… to care for. Somehow, though I had promised to lighten her burdens, I always seemed to add to them instead. Finally, so suddenly that I almost jumped back, Tuvok pressed the trigger. The sparks flared at the end of the weapon, fizzled, and died. 

And he turned to me with that damn Vulcan calm, as Janeway visibly attempted to keep from sagging in relief, and said, "The phaser is defective." And damn him, damn me, I smiled, and told him that he passed, and ordered her taken back to the brig. 

The moment my back was turned, I felt his fingers press into my neck. Part of me cursed him, but more was relieved, grateful that he was himself, and that he'd acted at last. The meld broke Teero's barriers on my mind, and as my control came flooding back, the pain and horror of what I'd done flooded me hard enough to leave me gasping. When I pulled myself out of that haze, Tuvok looked at me, and with that same calm, inquired, "All you all right, Commander?" I nodded and somehow managed to thank him. Together we began to form a plan…   


Somehow, though, my nightmares never seemed to include that part; the part where I rode to the rescue. Well, where _we_ rode to the rescue. No, I was trapped reliving that horrible moment where her life hung in the balance, over and over… and sometimes the phaser did not just spark and die, but let loose a beam of ruby energy that struck her chest, almost in mockery of the cranberry-red patch of command, and she slumped to the floor, leaving my paralyzed mind to scream denial even as my lips parted to release cruel laughter.   


***

  


As I readied myself for bed that night, I couldn't stop thinking about him. It seemed my traitor brain had decided to watch a continuous playback of our years together. I saw him on New Earth, smiling at me from across the table as he spun his 'angry warrior' legend; saw him on the couch in my ready room, gripping his coffee mug like a lifeline, the PADDs scattered about the room testament to our long hours of work; saw the way his tattoo wrinkled slightly as he quirked a brow at me, challenging me to a game of pool -- which he would inevitably lose, but worth the fight all the same… and then I'd see his darker side. 

Chakotay furious at Seska over the baby, Chakotay storming into my ready room to confront me on the Borg decision… Chakotay beaming onto my bridge after the Caretaker had snatched us across the galaxy. Even then, though, his face had not been wholly cold. My words had swayed him, made him see that we needed to work together… though probably he already knew that. My first officer is nothing if not an intelligent man. He resisted me at first… perhaps for his crew's sake. They knew they were outnumbered and outgunned, if it came to a fight, and they were all looking to him to make some sense out of the craziness that had descended in the wake of that wild ride. From the beginning I had known he was a man I could trust, not only because he had been Starfleet, although I fell back on that, calling him 'commander' -- for I needed him to be 'fleet, then. I needed an ally, not another variable in the equation -- but also because I felt in him a man of principle and reason, and I knew that he would never fail me. 

He never has, either. Oh, there have been plenty of times when I wanted to blast him out an airlock -- with or without his Maquis -- but by and large, he has been my rock. Always loyal to Voyager, to me, however odd his ways of showing it have been. That time he went chasing after Seska and the transporter equipment… I was fixed on getting him back safely, to be honest, only so that I could have the pleasure of killing him myself. I swear I will never know what he was thinking… 

This, though… this was different. I remember him standing in my ready room, after Tuvok had fired, ordering his Maquis to return me to the brig. Chakotay's face has never been so hard, in my memory. Never so… inhuman. Teero, Teero, I remind myself. He did it, not Chakotay. Not the man you've trusted, confided in, and relied on for seven years. But still, it had to have been Chakotay in part, right? After all, Teero's suggestion had only awaked fanaticism, not controlled every action… hadn't it? 

It occurred to me that I hadn't asked either Chakotay or Tuvok about their experiences under Teero's control. I know Tuvok fought his power, struggling against it until the very end, and in fact managed to overcome it. I also know I shouldn't expect Chakotay to be able to do the same. After all, Tuvok is a Vulcan, with all the mental control and strength that comes with it. Chakotay, for all his wisdom, all his strength, is only human. But still… I'd think he could have fought harder. The Chakotay I know would never have done those things -- do I know him as well as I think I do? 

He would have put us off on an M-class world. Better than killing us, certainly. A kind of compassion in that. But how was he planning to run the ship with only his Maquis? We needed both crews to get home, and we were shorthanded at that. And how could he separate friends, family -- an image of Tom and B'Elanna jumped into my mind. She would have put him off the ship, with the rest of the 'fleet. Interesting, that he's become one of 'ours' now. I wondered how they were dealing with the split. Maybe they'd have some advice for Chakotay and me. 

I could hear soft sounds on the other side of the bulkhead, now. So accustomed to him I've become, that I can hear him getting ready for bed even through the solid walls of Voyager. I wonder if his sleep is as troubled as mine? I haven't rested easy since Tabor was first attacked. I toss and turn most of the night, worrying. About how many other secrets may lie hidden in my crew, waiting to spring and destroy us. About how the crew will deal with the mutiny… On that note, at least, there is some comfort. Most of the crew has been able to put it behind them far more easily that Chakotay and I have. Perhaps because not all the Maquis turned. 

Most of all, though, I worry about Chakotay. 

I'd studied his records in some depth before we set off in pursuit of his ship. Tuvok had been a careful researcher, indeed. Almost everything I could want to know about his Maquis career was there before me… and, of course, his 'fleet records. Those were the ones I studied in the most depth, assuming even then that he was not Maquis at heart. I wanted him to be Starfleet. If he was 'fleet, I could bring him home. If he was Maquis, I might have to kill him. I hate killing… I'm a science officer -- my job is studying how the universe and life works, not how it breaks and dies. So I read those records, and prayed. 

He'd been a good officer. A little ego, a little recklessness, but those were plenty common among the best of the 'fleet. His commanding officers had seemed to think he'd grow out of it with a few more years and a little more responsibility under his belt. And all signs pointed to it, as he rose through the ranks. I remember thinking I'd have been proud to have him as my XO, back then. If only I'd known. 

A part of me admires him. He was able to walk away from Starfleet -- and I can tell how much it meant… how much it _means_ to him -- for the sake of his tribe. I doubt if I would have had the courage, let alone the ability to make that decision. But he could. His morals were strong enough. And I've seen him do it time and time again, when he felt deeply that something was right. It made him a wild card, and sometimes I felt uneasy having him in the XO's seat, but I valued him for the same reason. 

Now it's shot to hell. I would have trusted the man with my life before this. When he ordered me to the brig, I went -- not willingly, but at least quietly -- because I trusted him to fight Teero and do the right thing. I had left Voyager in his hands countless times before, and he had never failed me. I gave her to him then with the same expectations. 

Then Yosa came to the brig, phaser rifle in hand and cruel smirk on his face. "Captain wants to see you, Janeway," he said to me, sneering as he lowered the forcefield. "Let's go." I stepped out of the cell carefully, determined to maintain the dignity of my command, but he grabbed my arm and hurried me out of the brig. I noticed in a small corner of my mind that Chakotay's grip had been much gentler. 

"What does Chakotay want?" I asked, forcing my voice into that tone I've perfected for dealing with unruly ensigns. 

"The _captain_ will tell you when he feels like it," he practically spat back. Was he always this harsh, or was that another sign of Teero's control? I would have to have a talk with these Maquis after Chakotay gave my ship back. 

When the door opened and I saw Tuvok in front of me, I thought for a moment that things were back to normal. Together, the three of us would subdue the mind-controlled Maquis… Then Chakotay handed him the phaser. I didn't hear what he said, really. All that penetrated my brain was "…set to kill." My mind reeled. Chakotay, my Chakotay, was ordering Tuvok to kill me? "You said you wouldn't hurt anyone," I accused, not stopping to think. He ignored me. I focused instead on Tuvok. I spoke -- I don't even remember what I said. I only knew I had to reach him, the friend I knew was buried within him. 

He pressed the trigger. 

My world froze and narrowed to that one moment: Tuvok's thumb pressing down… bracing myself for the impact… the look on Chakotay's face, on Tuvok's…. the harsh sound of my own breathing… and then the sparking at the end of the phaser. 

I'm not one to faint, certainly. But at that moment, I think I came close. It's one thing to face death from the bridge of a starship, or on an Away Team; that's a risk I accepted when I donned the uniform. But to face it at the hands of a friend, ordered by another friend… I think I can be forgiven if my vision grayed and my knees grew weak for a moment. I refused to let the Maquis, and especially Chakotay, see how I felt, so I forced my vision to clear and my spine to straighten. Chakotay ordered me back to the brig and I mustered all the dignity I could as I went. 

But afterwards, I sat and tried not to shake.   


***

  


I overheard Tuvok telling her that it was illogical for me to give him a functioning weapon when I distrusted him. She smiled and teased him about his hunches. They don't understand. It wasn't about him, it was about her. She doesn't know that I could never hurt her, no matter who was controlling my mind. She doesn't know that I would sooner have turned that phaser on myself than let her be killed by it. 

The next day, in her ready room, she quietly absolved me of guilt. "I know you were under Teero's control, Commander," she said. "Let's just put it behind us." And then she strode onto the bridge, leaving me no time to reply. 

It didn't escape me that she'd used my rank, not my name. Her first officer, she could forgive. Chakotay… well, the night she left Sandrine's as soon as she saw me tells me how she feels about Chakotay. We don't talk any more, beyond what's necessary to perform our duties. Every time I approach her, she either turns away or finds some excuse to run off. In a way, it reminds me of our first year together, when we danced cautiously around each other, taking measures and trying to settle our relationship -- "define parameters," to use her term. Now, like then, she's not sure how far she can trust me. Keeping me at arm's length is safer, for her -- she doesn't risk being hurt that way. 

So here I am, trying to work my way back into her life without scaring her off. I've tried everything I can think of -- I even wrote another segment of that 'angry warrior' story I told her on New Earth, only to decide it sounded empty and erase it. 

As I lay sprawled on my bed, one arm pillowing my head, I could hear the soft rustles and clatters that formed her nightly routine on the other side of the wall. Suddenly I couldn't deal with the separation anymore and, rising, I softly slipped out of my quarters and rang her doorchime. 

It was some moments before she answered, clad in that pink nightgown I'd come to know so well, with a light robe thrown over it. "Commander," she greeted me, and seemed surprised. "Is there some emergency?" Her eyes took in my own appearance -- loose pants, bare chest and feet. 

"No, Kathryn," I answered. "But I think we need to deal with this, before it goes any father." 

"Deal with you showing up at my door at 0130 hours?" she queried, trying to smile. Her jest fell flat; we both felt it. 

"Kathryn…" 

She sighed. "Chakotay…" _Well, that's progress,_ I mused. "You weren't in control of your actions. We both know that, the crew knows that -- there's no problem. It's over." 

"Then why are you avoiding me?" I challenged her. 

She swiftly glanced up and down the hallway, then pulled me into her room. After the door hissed shut, she snapped, "I have not been avoiding you!" I caught and held her gaze until she looked away. "All right, I've been avoiding you. But, dammit, you had Tuvok aim a phaser at me!" 

"A defective phaser," I pointed out. 

"Because you couldn't trust him; yes, yes, I know! For God's sake, Chakotay --" 

"Kathryn, I wouldn't have hurt you." That stopped her. She stared at me for a long moment. Quietly, I continued, "After all these years, Kathryn, don't you know that? I told you once that I would dedicate my life to making your burdens lighter. Even under Teero's control, I couldn't hurt you." 

"You gave a damn good impression of it," she snapped. 

"And what was I supposed to do, Kathryn?" I returned. "I didn't have many options at the time!" 

"What were you supposed to do? You were supposed to do _something,_ Chakotay!" 

"Like what, Kathryn? Resist mind-control that Tuvok could barely fight? Or would you have preferred that I surrender completely? Would that help you put me in a nice, neat little category? 'Chakotay, the evil Maquis'?" I had moved closer to her as I spoke, my gaze intent on hers. She matched me stare for stare. 

"You're certainly living up to your own categorization -- 'Chakotay, the Angry Warrior'," she said. I recoiled slightly. 

"So speaks the Queen of Command Protocol," I bit out. "Too afraid to come out of your psychological ready room and join the rest of us mere mortals, Captain?" 

Her jaw set hard. "And what is that supposed to mean, Commander?" 

"Thank you for proving my point, _Captain,_" I replied. "Always distant, that's out fearless leader -- the Ice Queen of Voyager. Do you think the crew knows that your biggest fear is simply admitting you're human? No wonder you were so convincing as a Borg." 

Janeway gasped in outrage. "At least that was for a good cause," she said, fury flashing in her eyes. "Unlike certain others, I don't abandon my loyalties more often than Kirk changed women." 

I felt my face harden. "My loyalties leave my conscience clean -- can you say the same?" 

"So you turn to the Maquis with a clean conscience? I'm glad to finally know where your loyalties lie, Commander. I'll be certain to remember that in future. Good night to you --" 

"Damn it, Kathryn, stop pretending that you come out of this mess with your hands clean! You're as much to blame as I am!" 

"_I'm_ to blame?" she demanded. "How exactly do you see that?" 

My fists clenched of their own volition. "How dense can you be, Kathryn? You have a brainwashed Vulcan mind-melding with Maquis on the directions of a fanatic and you _don't_ send security after your ex-Maquis first officer when he suddenly goes incommunicado?" 

"I had other concerns on my mind --" 

"More important than the safety of the ship?" I was practically thundering now, past caring who heard. 

"If I hadn't gotten through to Tuvok, we wouldn't be having this conversation!" she replied, her voice rising as well. 

"If you'd had me arrested, you would've had all the time in the world to get through to him!" Sometime during the argument, we'd drawn closer together. Now we were shouting into one another's faces, almost sharing breath. 

She made a choked noise that sounded -- insanely -- like a suppressed giggle, and her tone came down a notch. "You're the only man I've ever know who argued with me over _not_ arresting him!" 

I lowered my voice, focusing intently into her eyes. "I care about the safety of the ship and the people on it," I said. "I fought for control, but couldn't gain it. I would rather have been safely in the brig, where I wouldn't be able to threaten them." I paused, drew a deep breath to steady myself, and plunged on. "I wasn't in control of myself, and I betrayed the ship -- can you trust me after this?" 

"As you said, Commander, you weren't in control --" 

"No!" My voice rose a little; with an effort, I brought it back down. "I don't want to hear the captain talking, Kathryn. I want to know if _you_ can trust _me._ Because if you can't, then I don't belong in the second seat." 

She closed her eyes briefly, turning her face away from me. "Chakotay… " 

"At least be honest with me, Kathryn." 

A gallows-humor smile curved her lips. "I think we're beyond dissembling now, Chakotay." I made no reply, and she sighed, looking back at me. "God help me, Chakotay… Yes, I trust you. I have trusted you since you beamed onto my bridge, phaser-rifle in hand, and that scares me more than what you did under Teero's control." Whatever I expected, it wasn't this. All I could do was blink stupidly at her. "I've trusted you with my ship and my life before, Chakotay… You've never failed me. I knew you would come through this time, too." 

"You have more faith in me than I do," I admitted. 

Now a real smile appeared on her face. "That, Commander Chakotay, is what makes us a good team -- we trust one another more than we trust ourselves." 

Despite myself, I felt an answering grin tug at the corners of my mouth. "Agreed, Captain Kathryn Janeway." 

She held out her hand and I took it. Her palm slid smoothly into mine, fitting perfectly. I felt her fingers curl around my hand, warm and reassuring, and I met her careful squeeze with a firm pressure of my own. The gesture was comforting, and neither of us was quick to withdraw. But at last she lifted her free hand to her face, covering a barely suppressed yawn. "If this is settled, Chakotay, I'm going to kick you out of my quarters. It's an ungodly hour, and I haven't been getting much sleep lately." 

"Neither have I," I confessed, releasing her hand. "Goodnight, Kathryn." 

"Goodnight, Chakotay." 

I stepped into the doorway, turning back before it could hiss shut. "See you for breakfast tomorrow?" 

Her smile was warm and brilliant. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."   


Fini


End file.
